


who knew I'd find an angel at the gates of hell

by Shadowcrawler, unwindmyself



Series: follow me down the rabbit hole [19]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, Face-Sitting, Femslash, Handcuffs, Light BDSM, Sentimental, Sexual Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:34:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25046977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowcrawler/pseuds/Shadowcrawler, https://archiveofourown.org/users/unwindmyself/pseuds/unwindmyself
Summary: Daisy and Jemma decide to have some fun with their 1950s wardrobe.
Relationships: Jemma Simmons/Skye | Daisy Johnson
Series: follow me down the rabbit hole [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/75997
Comments: 1
Kudos: 26
Collections: Women of the MCU





	who knew I'd find an angel at the gates of hell

**Author's Note:**

> Set post-7.04. 
> 
> Happy birthday, Daisy!
> 
> (Yes, this is Jemma-as-Peggy and Daisy-as-mysterious-CIA-agent having sex.)

Daisy slips through the hallway, careful not to make any noise. Everyone should be asleep by now, or at least in their bunks, but the last thing she needs is to run into someone who wants to know what she’s doing up so late and why she’s wearing a blazer and some of the fifties clothes they bought. 

Finally, she reaches Jemma’s room and taps on the door quietly. Then she opens the door, trying to be both dramatic and subtle (with mixed results). 

She lets out a loud sigh, like she’s relieved. “Agent Carter! Am I glad to see you, ma’am.”

Jemma raises an eyebrow. She’s sat on her bed wearing her undercover blue suit, though her hair isn’t quite as immaculate; she’s also wearing a pair of handcuffs. Of course, they’re some of the nice leather ones she’s made, and she could get herself out of them in about two seconds, because comfort and safety are more important than so-called historical accuracy, but they’re neither of them going to bring this up. “We haven’t been introduced,” she says, trying to sound both curious and collected.

“Zella Denver, CIA.” Jemma had researched period-accurate girls’ names and Daisy picked the one that sounded most like a _Star Wars_ name while not being _completely_ ridiculous. “They sent me to come get you out of here.”

“Much obliged,” Jemma drawls. She actually has no idea if Peggy Carter would choose this moment to be, for lack of a better word, quippy, but it seems like the kind of thing to do in a sexy rescue scene. 

It’s also at this point that she realizes how short a sexy rescue scene could be if, in fact, the rescue was just walking in and then walking back out with someone, and the problem is that in real life this would be convenient but in a fictional scenario partially designed to feature bondage play it’s… almost disappointing? It’s definitely far too low-stakes.

So without fully thinking it through, she blurts out, “I’m afraid before you get me out you’ll have to diffuse the bomb.”

Daisy, completely taken aback, boggles. “The...sorry, what now?”

“There’s a bomb,” Jemma repeats, completely talking out of her arse. “The men holding me here informed me that should I or anyone attempt to break me out of this cell, it would trigger a bomb. I’m not sure how long it has before it goes off, but it can’t be long.”

“A bomb,” Daisy repeats. She raises an eyebrow and cocks her head at Jemma, not wanting to break character but also wanting to point out that pulling this out of her ass at the last minute is a little ridiculous.

“Yes,” Jemma says, because she said it and now she can’t unsay it. Now there’s a bomb, and they can’t just safeword it away. Or something. “Dastardly buggers, they are.”

“Okay.” Daisy nods and glances around. “Well, I got the door open, so it’s probably not on the outside doorknob. But let me look at the inside.” She goes over and starts to fiddle with it like she’s trying to look for something.

“Thank you,” Jemma says. “That’d seem likely, but obviously it’s not… well, it’s not like they told me where it was, or I’d have been working at it myself.”

“Of course,” agrees Daisy. She keeps touching the doorknob, and then, because they’d decided that their characters don’t know each other, adds, “It’s a real honor to meet you, Agent.”

“You as well, Agent,” Jemma says warmly. “I’m always happy to see other women who’ve managed to stick it out in this field.” 

“Aw, shucks,” Daisy says, because this seems like something someone in the fifties would say. “I’m nowhere near as impressive as you.” Deciding she’s tired of pretending to search for a bomb that isn’t there, she says, “Aha! Found it. Now to disable it. Lucky for you, I’m good with my hands.”

Jemma smiles, because her instinct here is to go on about how wonderful Daisy is but the characters don’t know each other and therefore Peggy Carter actually has no idea what Zella Denver has accomplished specifically so that wouldn’t be appropriate. Instead she offers, “I’ve something that might help, but I’m afraid you’ll have to come get it off of me.”

That makes Daisy laugh. Maybe this spontaneous bomb subplot is less spontaneous than it seemed. “Alright,” she says, coming over to the bed and plopping down on it. “Where is it?”

“Attached to my garter,” Jemma says, trying not to be _too_ coy. She didn’t plan for this subplot, but she made sure to plan for quirky spy shenanigans.

Daisy smirks. “I usually buy a girl dinner first, but I guess I’ll have to make an exception.” She gently reaches up Jemma’s leg and feels around for the item, which turns out to be a pen. “I should’ve known you’d have a trick or two up your sleeve. Or...skirt.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to dinner,” Jemma says smoothly. The problem is, of course, that this is a pencil skirt and therefore there’s not much room to rummage, but she hopes that adds to the sexiness (or something). “We’d just be going about the right things in the wrong order.”

“I don’t mind that,” Daisy says, taking more time stroking Jemma’s leg than is strictly necessary before she retrieves the pen. “As long as we have the same idea about how things go between us, that’s all that matters.”

Jemma lets her eyelids flutter closed as coquettishly as she can manage. “And what idea is that?” she asks.

“Well, I hope I’m not being too forward,” Daisy says playfully, “but I do have my hand in a place it wouldn’t be unless you wanted it there.”

“I certainly can’t find anything to complain about,” Jemma says, then almost regretfully she adds, “Although we’d better put this on hold until the bomb is taken care of.”

Daisy snorts. “True. Let me go do that.” She gets up off the bed and goes to mess with the door handle again, as if there really is a bomb there that she needs to disable. Finally, she turns to Jemma with a triumphant grin. “That should do it.”

“Excellent,” Jemma says, then she glances down at her wrists pointedly. “You wouldn’t happen to have a skeleton key on you anywhere, would you?”

Daisy shakes her head. “Afraid not, but we’ve got something that should work back at my-” She pauses, thinking of where they could possibly be headed. “-camp.” She takes off the blazer and goes to drape it over Jemma’s arms as best she can. “That’ll help, a little, I think.”

“Many thanks,” Jemma says, a bit self-effacing. “I trust you won’t take advantage.”

“Of course not,” Daisy says. “I’d never.” She gently guides Jemma toward the door. “If we run into anyone, I’ll do my best to hold them off while you run.”

“Very gentlewomanly,” Jemma teases. It’s just a little bit odd combining handcuffs and high heels, but plenty of people do it all the time, so she’s determined not to let it mess her up. She’s fairly sure nobody is going to catch them, at any rate, her bunk and Daisy’s are just two doors apart.

Daisy rests a hand on her back to help steady her. “Is that alright, ma’am?” she asks. It’s a little odd, calling Jemma that, but it fits for the scenario.

It does, but - still - “Please, you needn’t be formal,” Jemma says. “I think we’re well past that.”

“Oh,” Daisy says with a laugh. “Alright, if you insist, Peggy.”

Jemma nods, buying time to think of another semblance of a quip. “Do you do this often?” she asks. She never promised to be creative with her rejoinders.

“Rescuing one of the top agents in the country from enemy territory?” Daisy jokes. “This is my first time, I’m afraid. I hope it’s not too obvious.”

“Rescue missions in general,” Jemma corrects. “It’s not obvious at all, you clearly know what you’re doing.”

Daisy shrugs modestly. “Once or twice, but this is my first time with anyone as important as you.”

Jemma makes a little scoffing noise, polite as one can do such a thing. “You’re also adept at flattery,” she says.

“It’s not flattery if it’s true,” Daisy says with a wink. Then they reach her door and, after glancing around one last time as part of the game, she opens it and pulls Jemma inside. “Phew,” she says, wiping off her forehead as if that was truly strenuous. “We made it.”

“We did,” Jemma agrees, looking around shyly. “Should I, ah…?” She nods toward the bed.

“Yeah, you can sit there while I get the skeleton key.”

Jemma nods and does, kicking her shoes off and crossing her ankles in what she hopes is a coquettish fashion. “You’re set up nicely,” she muses. “I’m glad the CIA knows how to keep its agents civilly.”

“Me too,” Daisy says cheerfully. “It’s not much, but it’s home.” Since they’re using handcuffs that buckle on, not ones with a key, she holds up an imaginary key and says, “Aha! Here’s the key.”

“Perfect,” Jemma says, shrugging the jacket off of her arms awkwardly. 

Daisy brings the “key” over as if to unlock the handcuffs, then pauses and smirks. “Y’know, you look awfully cute in those, if it’s not too forward to say.”

Jemma blushes, probably more than is in-character. She should be used to that by now, but somehow she’s not. (She doesn’t really mind that she’s not.) “Thank you,” she murmurs, glancing down and to the side coyly. “And I know you don’t mean anything odd by it, you’re no man with a whimpering damsel fetish.”

“God, no,” Daisy says. “I wouldn’t know what to do with a damsel if she fell into my lap.”

“Lucky for me,” Jemma says. “Luckier still if you know just what to do with someone who’s not a damsel but you still find cute with certain… accessories.” It’s a little verbose, but it’s not like they planned all of the dialogue ahead of time. 

“I’ll certainly do my best,” Daisy replies cheerfully. “D’you want me to arrange you or would you rather arrange yourself?”

“The second would make more sense, wouldn’t it?” Jemma asks. She’s not used to being this cavalier in scenes, so this feels odd, but even a smutty romance novel version of Peggy Carter wouldn’t be a total submissive.

Daisy nods. “Oh, sure. Wait, I’d better help you undress first.”

“Yes,” Jemma says. “So you might have to unlock me, then… relock.” 

Laughing, Daisy nods and undoes the handcuffs, then reaches to start taking out the army of pins securing the hat to Jemma’s head. “These first, I guess,” she says. “I’ll try to be gentle.”

“Thank you,” Jemma says. “As enjoyable as it can be to, ah, let someone else take the reins for a little while, I’d just as soon save pain for on-the-job tussles.”

“Of course.” Daisy pauses for a bit to concentrate on removing the pins without pulling out half of Jemma’s hair with them, then finally she tosses the hat aside. “So,” she says, overly casual as she starts to unbutton Jemma’s shirt, “what sort of things does Peggy Carter like in bed?”

The question makes Jemma blush, not because it’s the kind of question that would normally make her blush (even though it sort of is) but because, well, it highlights the complete absurdity of sexually roleplaying a real-life person that has been your personal hero for the better part of your life. Not enough to stop her from doing, mind, but it does give her a moment of pause. “Oh, it depends,” she says. “It can be satisfying to have to work for it a bit, but it’s also nice to be spoiled a bit.”

“Alright,” Daisy says. “I can work with that. I’d say you deserve a bit of spoiling, especially right now.”

“It’s not the first time I’ve been held hostage,” Jemma demurs, both in and out of character.

Shrugging, Daisy replies, “The last thing I’d want is for Agent Peggy Carter to think I was a lousy, selfish lay.”

“I hope it’s not just your reputation you’re concerned with,” Jemma cracks.

Daisy laughs. “No, no, it’s just...you’re a special lady, I wanna treat you like it.”

“I’m not sure what to say,” Jemma murmurs suddenly, because it’s hard, it’s _so_ hard, to hear things like that and not melt a little. 

Daisy grins at her and says, “Say, would you be willing to help me get this skirt of yours off?”

Jemma nods and goes for the zipper, glad of the change of subject. “Just set it anywhere?” she asks once it’s off and already folded in her hands.

“Yeah, that’ll do.” Daisy reaches to pull off her own sweater. “I’m not the tidiest, in case you hadn’t noticed. I hope that’s alright.”

“Perfectly fine,” Jemma says. She veers between meticulous and messy herself, and she expects Peggy Carter likely did as well. After setting her skirt down, she asks, “Blouse too?”

“Yeah.” Daisy shucks off the rest of her clothes and tosses them away, because frankly she’d do that if Jemma weren’t here too. Then she turns back to Jemma and gives her an appraising look. “Damn, Peggy, you’re gorgeous.”

“Well, you’re more than,” Jemma says. She’s still in her period-appropriate lingerie, for the aesthetic mostly, but Daisy is all the way naked, and it hasn’t really been that long since they were last together but it had been far too long before that and she’s still more awed than usual by Daisy’s beauty.

“Aw shucks,” Daisy says, leaning in close. “You’ll make me blush.” Then she kisses Jemma.

All the stress of recent days catches up to Jemma when Daisy’s lips meet hers, and she lets out a sigh filled with deep, possibly out-of-character longing as they kiss. Everything else is baffling and she feels like she only barely knows what she’s doing at any given moment (which, considering what a perfectionist she is, is nothing short of torturous) but Daisy, Daisy makes sense. Daisy is sweet and perfect and good and they understand each other.

That makes Daisy smile against her lips. “Getting excited?” she teases when they break apart.

“Yes,” Jemma says, almost petulant. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Aw, don’t be sad, it’s cute, that’s all.” Daisy kisses her again, then moves to her neck. 

“I’m not sad,” Jemma says a little too quickly. “I just…” She shakes her head. She’s really not sure how to explain the sudden emotions washing over her. “You’re overwhelming.”

Daisy giggles. “You’re really something yourself.” She gives Jemma’s neck a nip, then soothes it with a kiss. “That alright?”

“Yeah,” Jemma says softly. It’s just as well, she thinks, that Daisy isn’t picking up on all of her inner turmoil. “You’re very good at that.”

“I’m certainly trying to be,” Daisy says, peppering kisses across her neck. “Did you wanna get yourself laid out for me?”

“Just stretched out, or anything more specific?” Jemma asks.

Daisy thinks for a second, then says, “Hands over your head and then I’ll put the cuffs back on?”

Jemma nods and obliges, trying to stretch out in the sexiest way she can manage. “Like so?”

“Yeah.” Daisy smiles and grabs the handcuffs. “That’s a very nice view.”

“Thank you,” Jemma hums. She still doubts her own ability to be at all seductive, so that helps to hear. “Now you’ll have your way with me, I suppose?”

“Unless you’ve got any objections,” Daisy teases, pausing to take off Jemma’s bra before fastening first one cuff and then the other onto her wrists. Then she leans down to kiss across her collarbone.

“None,” Jemma says. “I’m fairly sure you’d know if I did.” Because Peggy would punch and because she herself would use the safeword, and also because they’ve already designed the entire scene.

Grinning, Daisy reaches down to cup one of Jemma’s breasts in her hand while she kisses the other. “Geez, you’re really hot,” she says, in between kisses. “Not that I expected anything else.”

Jemma has to bite her lip to keep from laughing, because she’s not sure “hot” is a very 1950s term, and she says, “I _do_ feel flushed.”

“Oh,” says Daisy, who has to pause for a second to realize her error, and then adds, “Yeah, that too, but it’s alright. It’s cute.” As if to make up for it, she sucks Jemma’s nipple into her mouth.

Jemma inhales sharply. “Harder,” she murmurs. “Please?”

As instructed, Daisy sucks harder, rolling her tongue over Jemma’s nipple. 

“God,” Jemma gasps. She feels like she can be a little more demanding than usual and she’s chasing sensations, so after a moment she adds, “Teeth?”

Daisy hums acknowledgement and bites down, gently at first and then again less gently. 

Jemma hisses through her teeth, but she’s quick to add “Just like that” in case Daisy worries. She takes advantage of having her legs free and wraps one around Daisy’s hips to urge her along.

Daisy takes her time with first one breast and then the other, before finally glancing up at Jemma and grinning. “That enough for you?”

“For now,” Jemma says. “Why don’t you show me what else you’re good at?”

“Can do,” Daisy says cheerfully, starting to kiss down Jemma’s body. “You want my fingers or tongue first?”

“Whatever you want to give,” Jemma says. “I bet it’s all wonderful.”

“Mmm, alright.” Daisy makes herself comfortable between Jemma’s thighs. “Mind if I take these off?” she asks, nodding at Jemma’s panties.

“Please,” Jemma says, “I was assuming you would.”

“Well, it’ll definitely be nicer for you if I do,” teases Daisy, unclipping her stockings from her garter belt and easing her panties off. Then she traces Jemma’s center with her tongue.

“ _Oh,_ ” Jemma breathes out, sort of forgetting to pay mind to her character.

Daisy chuckles. “You alright there, Peggy?” She’s not scolding, just playful.

“Yes,” Jemma says immediately. “Yes, I’m just…” She trails off, thinking. “I’m happy.”

“Aw, well, let’s keep that up then,” Daisy says, starting to lick at her again.

“That’s heavenly,” Jemma murmurs.

Daisy knows how to make Jemma come undone in about two minutes, but she wants to draw this out a little. So she licks and kisses Jemma’s folds lightly, not touching her clit quite yet. 

“Feels so nice,” Jemma says softly, “you feel so nice.”

Making a little fond noise, Daisy keeps going, closing her eyes to focus on how Jemma’s moving her hips against her mouth. Things have been so hectic lately that they haven’t gotten a lot of time together, and just being here with her girl, she’s more relaxed than she’s felt in weeks.

Jemma bites back a loud moan, feeling a little shy about it. “Thank you, please,” she whispers.

Daisy teases her for a few more minutes before finally sucking at Jemma’s clit, rolling her tongue around it.

“Oh, hell,” Jemma gasps out, overcome with sensation and emotion. 

Daisy has to pause for a second to stifle her laughter at that. Then she gets right back to it, since Jemma’s pretty far gone at this point.

Well, Jemma figures, mild swearing is probably better than screaming, which is what she really wants to do. “Please,” she says again, finally letting herself be needy.

And how can Daisy resist that? She keeps going, feeling a sense of pride at how well she knows what her girl needs.

Jemma grins, but before long she’s panting, pushing her hips against Daisy’s mouth insistently. “God,” she says, “please, just like - please!”

Daisy hums in concentration, holding onto Jemma’s hips gently to give her a better angle as she licks at her. 

“Keep _touching_ ,” Jemma pleads, eyes squeezed shut.

As instructed, Daisy rubs Jemma’s thighs with her thumbs as best she can through her stockings. She left them on because she just figured Jemma would like that, but it’s a nice feeling nonetheless.

And it’s that simple touch, in conjunction with everything else, that sends Jemma over the edge, moaning and shaking dramatically. “Oh,” she cries, because anything more articulate seems just too difficult.

Daisy, feeling smug and affectionate all at once, gently laps at her all through her orgasm and, once she’s calmed, cleans her up a bit before looking up and asking mischievously, “How what that?”

“Phenomenal,” Jemma says, though the word comes out a bit messy. 

“Good,” Daisy says, pressing one last light kiss to her (which makes Jemma squeal a little). “I definitely enjoyed myself.”

“As did I, clearly,” Jemma laughs. She’s still trying to catch her breath, but she doesn’t want to linger in the afterward too much until they’re both satisfied, so she adds, trying to sound seductive, “May I return the favor?”

“Yes please,” Daisy says, grinning. “How d’you want me?”

“However,” Jemma says. “It’s yours to decide, isn’t it?”

Daisy considers for a second. “Well, you can’t exactly use your hands on me,” she teases. “So I suppose I’ll just have to come to you.”

“I’d be alright with that,” Jemma hums. Her expression makes it clear she’ll be more than alright.

So Daisy carefully maneuvers herself until she’s kneeling over Jemma’s face. “Is that okay?” she asks, knowing it is but wanting to stay as in-character as she can.

“Yes,” Jemma says. She, in contrast, is unabashedly eager, which may or may not be in-character and she doesn’t really care.

Daisy reaches to gently tug on a strand of Jemma’s hair. “How about this, do you like that or should I not?”

“I like it,” Jemma agrees. “It’s not like we have to stay presentable for later.”

“True,” Daisy says mischievously. “As funny as it would be to send you into a SHIELD meeting all disheveled.”

“It’s not like my colleagues haven’t seen me beat up,” Jemma points out, “and I doubt most of the men would know what a woman looks like when she’s well and truly satisfied.”

The joke catches Daisy off guard and she bursts out laughing. “Good point. Speaking of that…” She trails off suggestively.

“Yes, ma’am,” Jemma says, managing to make it sound like a playful tease instead of what it really is. She leans up, takes a deep breath, and starts in licking at Daisy, slow and tender.

Daisy sighs and lets herself relax against Jemma’s mouth. “Yeah,” she murmurs, “yeah, just like that.”

Jemma hums in agreement, doing just as she’s asked. Her own hips are starting to lift again, but mostly just because she’s engaged in the moment.

“It’s been nice,” Daisy says, “to have this, y’know, this time with you.” That’s both in-character as well as true in their real lives. “You’re really-” She cuts herself off with a soft moan as Jemma does something particularly nice with her tongue. “-something special,” she whimpers.

“I think you are,” Jemma mumbles, barely moving away from Daisy’s center as she speaks. She could probably think of a more Peggy Carteresque way to express it if she tried, but she’s a little drunk on the taste of Daisy and she doesn’t care.

Daisy still understands her, of course. She responds by reaching down to run her fingers through Jemma’s hair, tugging it just a bit. “Thanks,” she gasps. “Keep that up, huh?” It’s not her most elegant instruction, but it’ll do.

Jemma nods and obeys, adding, because she can, “You taste splendid.” 

Laughing, Daisy says, “You’re cute.”

“I’m being honest,” Jemma insists, dragging her tongue over Daisy’s clit.

Daisy hums and grinds against Jemma’s mouth. “More of that, yeah?”

Jemma nods. “As much as you want,” she says softly, nuzzling against Daisy’s thigh for a moment before she goes back to her clit.

Daisy lets herself get lost in the feeling of Jemma’s tongue for awhile, letting out little noises to let Jemma know how much she’s enjoying herself. She rocks against Jemma’s mouth and murmurs, “I’m getting close, keep going.”

“Yeah,” Jemma hums, doing just that. Her fingers are flexing, like she’d love to be holding onto Daisy if she was allowed, but since she can’t do anything with them she focuses on kissing and licking as absolutely perfectly as she can.

After not too much longer of that, Daisy lets herself go with a yelp, grinding down against Jemma until she’s finished. Once she’s calmed, she rolls off and flops down next to her with a breathy sigh. “Oh my god.”

“I assume that’s a good thing,” Jemma says, trying to tease and likely failing.

Daisy grins. “Hell yeah.” She leans over to kiss Jemma on the lips. “You’re damn good at that, Peggy.”

“I should hope so, to keep up with you,” Jemma replies. “Zella.”

That makes Daisy giggle. “All in a day’s work, ma’am.”

“I hope this wasn’t just another day for you,” Jemma quips.

“Oh, no, most of my days don’t involve the honor of pleasuring a gorgeous lady like yourself.” Daisy barely gets this out with a straight face.

Jemma, however, doesn’t manage such a thing. She just bursts out laughing and says, “Alright, consider our characters broken. What _was_ that line?”

Daisy grins sheepishly at her. “I don’t know, I couldn’t think of a better word. Besides like, ‘bedding,’ which is even grosser.”

“It’s not that so much as the whole sentence,” Jemma snorts. “And imagining someone saying it in any serious context.”

“Hey, Zella Denver is a _very_ serious CIA agent.” Daisy taps her playfully on the nose. “I held it together pretty well up till then, you gotta admit.”

“Oh, I know, I just meant if it happened in real life,” Jemma says, scrunching up her nose and giggling. “You’re wonderful. This was wonderful.”

Daisy kisses her. “You too. You want me to take those off and then we can spoon and stuff?” She nods toward the handcuffs.

“Please?” Jemma hums, brushing her cheek against Daisy’s fondly.

So Daisy carefully unfastens them, kissing Jemma’s wrists as she does, and sets them aside before lying back down next to Jemma and throwing an arm over her waist. “I like you in that suit,” she adds. “We should totally revisit this sometime.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed,” Jemma says coyly, snuggling close. “Though maybe next time I’ll get you in some proper lingerie, too.”

“I can arrange that.”


End file.
